


when i sing, you sing harmonies

by sapphoslover



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, No spoilers for s5, Road Trips, T4TMA Week (The Magnus Archives), set during s4, trans woman basira, trans woman daisy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28618440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphoslover/pseuds/sapphoslover
Summary: After the coffin, Daisy and Basira find themselves in a car on the way to Wales and stumble upon bits of hope etched along the way.
Relationships: Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16
Collections: t4tma week 2021





	when i sing, you sing harmonies

**Author's Note:**

> for day 5 t4t tma!! prompt: community
> 
> both basira and daisy are trans women.   
> there's not a lot of angst and it's all canon compliant. 
> 
> title from twin size mattress. 
> 
> hope u enjoy!! i love these Ladies so much

Daisy has her head out of the window, her hand splayed over the dashboard, the wind howls in Basira’s own ear as she looks ahead, eyes itching to look at Daisy, to see her with the wind in her hair, in her eyes. But she keeps her eyes ahead and her hands on the steering wheel, if they clench harder than they should, she pays them no mind.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Daisy’s mouth tilt up just so and it makes her heart lurch in her chest in the way it only does in the presence of Daisy, in a way it forgot to do when Daisy was down there and Basira didn’t do anything about it. She breathes in, a little harshly and Daisy lowers herself down to her seat, rolling the window mup halfway.

“Good?” Daisy says.

Basira hums, “you could have gotten hurt.” She says, and doesn’t know which time she’s talking about. She’s seen Daisy get hurt more times than she’s willing to recall.

“I’m fine,” Daisy replies, her voice quiet in the way it gets sometimes, in the way it’s been getting more and more since the coffin and Basira doesn’t know what to do with it so she turns it over in her head again and again and lets it slip inside the crevices of her mind and build itself another home.

“Don’t want you dying on me until we’re at least halfway through this thing.”

“It’s a road trip,” Daisy says, something bright in her voice and Basira _aches_ with it, something fierce and desperate in the way she clings to Daisy’s voice.

“Sure it is.” Basira says, voice steady.

Daisy sighs, a bit of a laugh in it, and Basira relishes in it, remembers some 4 years ago when a drunk Daisy had showed up to her flat and fallen into her arms with all the grace of an undead killer and had whispered in her ear that she was the only person who could make Daisy laugh. 

“Calling it a road trip won’t make you less,” Daisy waves her hand in the air, “less intimidating.”

Basira scoffs before she can help it, “ _I’m_ intimidating? Have you met you?”

Daisy turns her head to face Basira and Basira wills herself to keep looking ahead, Daisy’s unrelenting gaze making her feel splayed open in a way she doesn’t feel even when compelled by Jon or Elias. She thinks Daisy has a power no entity could ever have.

"No, you've got that whole thing," Daisy says, eyes focused, "the sort of smoldering look to you. It's nice." Daisy stops, suddenly and Basira sneaks a look, quick warmth in her chest and she wonders how she lived without this feeling for so long before Daisy. 

"I don't think I've ever been called nice before." Basira says before she can help it, catches the sound of the breath Daisy takes and let's it stick to the inside of her wrist as if it were her own pulse. 

"Well," Daisy says, voice only slightly unsteady, "this is a day of firsts, I suppose."

___

Wales is beautiful, laying before them with grace Basira has only ever seen in Daisy. It doesn't take long for them to get some food before they head to The North Beach in Tenby. 

Daisy keeps humming a tune Basira can't recognise and she finds her fingers tapping to it on the steering wheel and it doesn't take her by surprise, the way her body tunes itself to Daisy's even after being apart. Basira wonders if there's anything left inside her that doesn't belong to Daisy.

___

"I grew up around here," Daisy says as they sit down on the beach, the sand yielding as if welcoming them, "but I don't remember much." Her voice goes soft for a second and Basira's fingers itch to touch her. 

"Do you remember when we first met?" Daisy asks, her voice hitching around the waves crashing on the shore next to their feet.

"Of course I do," Basira says, looks right at Daisy, "we were at that meetup thing for trans women." Daisy's face had stuck out amongst the crowd and stuck to Basira's ribs like undead flowers on the pavement and she'd thought about her every day since. 

"I didn't know what to say to you when I saw you at the station." Daisy says, something like grief in the turn of her mouth as she turns her head towards Basira. 

"Neither did I," Basira says, remembers the fear that had clung to the station, remembers her own fear, her own relief at seeing Daisy again. “I remember that I was relieved to see you.” 

Daisy’s mouth tilts up at that and Basira has to look away. She remembers every single time she’d met Daisy, at the few meetups they’d both gone to, glances at the station, then being assigned together and feeling her whole life collapse into itself with Daisy being the only coherent thing in the centre of the collision. 

“The groups,” Basira says as her hands clench with memories, “it was a good community.”

“You are my community, my home.” Daisy says, in the relentless quietly certain way she is, her voice gentle even as her words seem like a machete to Basira's gut, making her breath stick in her chest as if it would only escape if Daisy herself pulled it out with her hands and Basira knows she'd let her, she'd let Daisy do anything to her if it meant she would never stop hearing those words from Daisy's mouth.

Basira thinks of all the times Daisy had showed up at her door, blood-stained with rage in her hands and a plea in her eyes, thinks of all the times she’d done the same to Daisy. Basira thinks of Daisy, suffering alone in the coffin, she thinks of all the moments she’s spent loving Daisy quietly, certainly, unafraid, from the second she’d met her to now. There is blood on Basira’s hands, her own, Daisy’s, other people’s, and she doesn’t know what to do with any of it. The only thing she’s ever know down to her bones is that if she’s capable of love, it’s all for Daisy, only ever for Daisy.

“You’re my home too,” she says, only slightly helpless. 

Daisy laughs, low, soft, says, “You know that sound, when there’s a light wind and there’s that sound the leaves make, a _whooshing_ sort of thing?” 

Basira nods, and something feels etched in her throat, it’s not a lump, not really. It feels like small, like uncertainty, like hope, like a beginning. 

“And it’s not a bad sound, even when it picks up speed and the doors start banging, it’s still never bad. It’s always pleasant, and it makes you calm and it makes you feel more complete, sort of. You know what I mean?”

Bassira nods again, her heart her throat and her hands are sweaty and they never get sweaty like that and Bassira isn’t really one to give into fear, not really, but she feels afraid, feels off-footed, right now, in a way she rarely does. 

Daisy looks at her then and her eyes are clearer than the sky above.

“That’s how I feel when I look at you.” She says it like it’s the easiest thing ever, like she hasn’t just taken the sun from the sky and given it to her, like she hasn’t just given Basira a reason to _live._

“I suppose I don’t ignite antagonism in everyone I meet, then.” Basira says, awkward and unsure and tries to cover it up with a laugh. 

She forgets, sometimes, how well Daisy knows her, how well Daisy knows anything.

“No,” she agrees, “you don’t.” And then she kisses her, tasting of redemption Basira doesn’t know how to ask for, tasting of the ocean and everything Basira doesn’t know how to live without and she doesn’t think she could live without kissing Daisy for the rest of her life. 

When they pull away, Daisy entangles their fingers, and Basira's heart bursts with it. 

"What if we just stayed here?" Basira says, lingering at the edges of desperation.

Daisy smiles and the sun seems to set with it, "you know we can't." 

Basira does, she knows, but she allows herself a second to pretend that they'll go home to a flat that would look over the beach and they'd wake up the next morning without the taste of fear in their mouths. She allows herself to pretend, before she can't. 

Daisy rests her head on Basira's shoulder and Basira knows she's going to love Daisy till the end of the world and after, through this apocalypse and any other, knows she's gonna love Daisy even after she's dead. She doesn't say it, just presses her lips to Daisy's windswept hair and hope Daisy knows. With the way Daisy's hands tighten around Basira's, she thinks she knows. 

"We're here now," Daisy whispers, "I suppose that means something."

"It means everything." Basira says, intentional vehemence in her voice, only tenderness in her hands. 

Daisy kisses her again, and Basira's world light up with it.

Basira closes her eyes, feels the waves crashing at their feet, she knows something's coming, she's not sure they'll survive whatever it is. She's not sure it matters, not with Daisy's hand in hers, sure as the sand beneath their feet. She doesn't know what's coming but she knows that she will burn that bridge when she reaches it, with Daisy's hand clasped in hers like the beginning of something imperishable and she will trust her feet to move only forward, forward, forward.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading!! xx


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